


No More Waiting

by feministfangirl



Series: Watching, Waiting [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (kinda), Drunk Sex, Face-Fucking, Gags, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 15:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4527666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feministfangirl/pseuds/feministfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spying on The Iron Bull and the Inquisitor having a little 'alone time' in the tavern, Dorian meets up with the Inquisitor for his own round of fun. Their antagonistic relationship takes a on new dimension in the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Five months later, I've finally finished the sequel to Watching, Waiting. This fic is 90% better if you read that one, but it's not required if you just wanna read some porn.
> 
> Since this isn’t for a kink meme fill, I’m defining my inquisitor. This is my male Lavellan, Kavi, the one I picture in every applicable scenario.

Sobriety came quickly for Inquisitor Kavi Lavellan. He’d been rather off-kilter in the tavern, but as he ascended the stairs to his quarters, he felt much closer to sober than drunk. The brief walk in the crisp mountain air had shocked his brain awake, and now he could carefully catalogue the events that had led him here, on his way to devour a mage he could barely exchange two words with before an argument broke out.

It had been an eventful few days. Lavellan had killed his tenth dragon, gotten drunk with Bull, argued with Dorian and then let Bull fuck him _in public_. But he wouldn’t be wearing clothes for much longer. He had an appointment to keep in his quarters. He would finally fulfill the strange desire that had been simmering in him since Redcliffe – the desire to _ravish_ Dorian. Lavellan wanted to punch the man in the face almost as badly. Today, however, he’d seen the desire in his eyes, the open want that made him spy, the way he couldn’t seem to focus on either Bull or himself… Now, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. Dorian with his head thrown back in ecstasy? Yes. Dorian obeying his whims? Oh yes. Dorian writhing, disheveled, undone… He couldn’t think of anything better.

The Inquisitor reached the top of the stairs. Dorian stood in the middle of the room, gazing out at the starry sky via the balcony’s spectacular view. He was still mostly dressed – he’d only removed his boots and the single sleeve he’d been wearing that day. It made his shoulders and biceps the centre of attention, and Lavellan drank in the view with an appreciative smile.

“These are quite the lodgings,” Dorian said, turning to face him and gazing around the room as he went. Lavellan snorted. Trust Dorian to begin by poking fun at his quarters. “I expect you’ve never slept in a bed this plush before.” In any other situation, Kavi might have taken offense to the man’s casual comments, but now that he knows what Dorian _really_ thinks of him, he isn’t bothered.

“I don’t do much sleeping in that one, either,” he replied. Dorian caught the innuendo and smirked. He moved toward Lavellan like an animal stalking prey. To watch the man move with such purposeful desire had Kavi excited. But he wouldn’t be the prey tonight, not with Dorian. He had other plans, spurred on by the image of Dorian licking his own mess off those slender brown fingers.

“There are much better uses for it,” Dorian agreed, his voice husky. “What do you say, Inquisitor? Would you like to be bad?” He leaned forward, close enough now for Lavellan to kiss. He licked his lips, but didn’t follow through.

“You assume I’m not already,” he replied with a smirk. At that, he reached out and grabbed Dorian by one of the superfluous straps on his tunic in order to pull them flush together. Lavellan’s muscular thigh pressed between Dorian’s legs without hesitation, and then he captured him in a fierce kiss. It was strong, and deep, and Lavellan led ruthlessly. He licked into Dorian’s mouth, chasing the sweet taste of wine, before he pulled back to search the mage’s face for signs of doubt. “Do you want this?” he asked. He had to be sure.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Dorian replied. With that, all obstacles between them were clear. “Well? Are you just going to admire me all night or do we have more exciting plans?” Lavellan smirked.

“We do have plans…” he nodded. “Let’s start with quieting that mouth of yours.” He pulled Dorian into another kiss, only this time he used the kiss as a distraction. In truth, Lavellan was mapping the many buckles and straps that would slow his access to the enviable plains of Dorian’s body. He had ideas for how he might dispose of the fiddly garments, and how he might _keep_ him that way for a while.

Dorian was no docile lover. Where his tongue lost ground his hands gained, causing Lavellan to nearly forget his task. Dorian seemed to want to grope every part of him at once, and each new touch had Kavi struggling to keep his mind on his plans and keep up the lead of the kiss. After a short time of this, Dorian pulled back a little, laughter twitching his moustache.

“Are my movements distracting you?” he asked. His hands didn’t stop roaming as he spoke. “I can’t keep my hands off you, Inquisitor. You’re rather strapping, after all…” His hand spanned the entire swell of Lavellan’s behind, then half the circumference of his thigh. “I can’t be sure which part of you is my favourite. I suppose there’s time to decide.” The mage’s hand tightened on his ass, and Lavellan had a vague idea of which part of him Dorian was leaning toward. He could feel the bulge pressing against his leg, could tell from the fervor of his grip that Dorian had a particular _thing_ about his stature. Lavellan wasn’t surprised; Bull was even more fascinated by the difference between them. This obsession still had Lavellan’s arse feeling sore, though in a good way. But Lavellan was strong, stronger than Dorian. And he had this burning desire to show him just how strong he could be. He suspected the mage might like it. If he ever stopped talking.

“…all over, tongue and mouth and hands on every inch. If you’ll let me.” Dorian paused, and Lavellan realized he was expected to respond in kind.

“I have something else in mind for your mouth,” he said. He’d finally figured how to get Dorian out of his clothes and into a more comfortable position. He wound his hand in Dorian’s hair and jerked his head back, baring his throat. The gasp it drew out of him was reward enough, but Kavi continued by licking a path from collarbone to chin. Dorian groaned and the elf could feel the vibrations ripple through him. With a growl, Lavellan nipped at Dorian’s exposed throat, leaving small red marks and then soothing them with hot open-mouthed kisses. Now that Dorian was sufficiently distracted, Lavellan began to undo the straps to Dorian’s robes, loosening them enough to slide most of his layers away. As soon as he had the garments slipping toward the ground, Lavellan walked Dorian backward, careful to allow him to step out of his layers. Now, clad only in a thin under tunic and tight, silky smalls, Dorian was almost as bare as Kavi wanted him. He let go then, leaving Dorian blinking at him, mustache and hair in equal disarray.

“Why am I the only one getting naked?” he asked, his hands moving to the clasps at the front of Lavellan’s finery. “I can’t wait to see all of you,” Dorian said softly. His fingers made quick work of the top. Lavellan could tell from the look on Dorian’s face that he was surprised to find that the vibrant markings that graced the elf’s face continued a little ways down his chest. Kavi let him have a moment to stare; though his muscles paled in comparison to those Dorian kept obsessively toned, his chest was still a thing of beauty. Dorian’s face took on an expression of hunger as his hands moved to the lacing on Lavellan’s tight breeches. The elf watched Dorian’s face as he reached inside to discover the elf wasn’t wearing smalls.

“If you’re wondering…” he said softly, as Dorian pushed the breeches down and wrapped a warm hand around his half-hard dick, “…I don’t _ever_ wear smallclothes.” With a smirk, Lavellan shoved Dorian, causing the mage to sit heavily on the edge of the bed. Kavi grabbed a fistful of the mage’s silky hair, noting again that Dorian seemed to moan whenever it was pulled, and used it to tug Dorian’s face to his groin. Dorian’s eyes flicked up to meet his, but Lavellan didn’t stop for permission – he simply shifted his hips until the slick head of his member bumped up against Dorian’s full lips. The mage hesitated only a moment before he opened his mouth and swallowed Lavellan whole.

It was almost too much. His head swam, the drink from earlier making a brief impact on his balance. Dorian’s mouth was warm and wet and tight and when Lavellan brushed the back of his throat he simply adjusted his angle and kept going. Lavellan had to fist his hair and hold him still to get a moment to compose himself. The mage’s eyes danced at him, a challenge and an invitation. A breath, and then another, and Kavi was back in control. He pulled Dorian back, so he almost slipped from between those plush lips. He paused a half second before pulling Dorian forward again, his cock sliding back in deep. He repeated the motion, slow and steady, watching Dorian’s eyes close and his face relax. He _liked_ it – being controlled, guided, told what to do. Maybe just in this position. Maybe just with him. But it was clear Dorian was happy to be there, nearly naked on the edge of Lavellan’s bed taking nearly the entire length of him down his throat.

“You’re good at this,” the Inquisitor murmured, his free hand stroking Dorian’s face. “It’s like you were made for this.” Dorian snorted and pulled off, just quick enough to slip out of Lavellan’s grip.

“I’m good at everything,” he drawled back. “Despite your crude thoughts, however, I was obviously made for much better things than –“ Kavi pushed Dorian back hard so the mage was lying on his back, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed. In a smooth motion, he was kneeling over Dorian’s face, his dick in hand.

“You’re made for this,” Lavellan repeated, and thrust into Dorian’s mouth without hesitation. “How can you deny it when you do it so well…” His hips moved in earnest, his earlier slow pace forgotten in favour of quick, powerful thrusts that Dorian somehow kept from choking on. Dorian’s hands came up to rest on Lavellan’s legs, large hands holding on as Lavellan fucked his mouth. He went deep enough for Dorian’s nose to brush against his hairless skin, deep enough for Lavellan to suspect Dorian had no gag reflex. Dorian’s eyes were squeezed shut as his fingers tightened on Lavellan’s thighs. He let out a groan around the organ in his mouth, and Kavi had to stop before he spent all over that pretty face.

He pulled out and stepped back a few steps, panting. Dorian pushed himself up on his elbows to look up at Kavi.

“Is that it, then?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “You can only go for a few minutes before you admit defeat?” His ever-present smirk widened. “It’s rather flattering, to think I could draw an orgasm out of you in such a short amount of time.”

“You haven’t done it yet,” Lavellan growled. He straddled Dorian again, but this time positioned himself so he could hold the mage down, his hands tight around the other’s wrists. He settled himself down on top of Dorian’s bulge, still confined by his fancy underclothes. He wiggled slightly, grinning when Dorian bucked up against him.

“Want me to make you come just like this?” he asked. “You’re so confident, it would be nice to teach you a lesson.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” Dorian scoffed. Pride and lust warred within the elf. He always did love a challenge. But Dorian’s smart mouth was distracting him again. He didn’t want to go off track again. Dorian would come, yes, but not until Lavellan had used him thoroughly.

“You and your smart mouth…” the elf said softly. “I’d better do something about that.” It took only a moment to tug off Dorian’s underclothes, even though he’d had to change positions to do it. Then, with a grin, he balled them up and stuffed them into Dorian’s mouth. The mage looked outraged for a moment – Lavellan was sure the garments were expensive and hand tailored or something daft like that – but his expression mattered very little once Lavellan flipped him over. The warrior’s strength he’d been building since childhood made it easy, and the squeak of surprise Dorian had made in return was a just reward. Lavellan repositioned himself to straddle Dorian’s thick thighs, the muscle firm against him.

With the mage finally in the prone position he wanted, Lavellan took a moment to explore. Dorian’s skin was smooth, an even colour in almost every place. His back was a marvel – broad, toned shoulders down to a tight waist and an ass the gods themselves could worship. Lavellan leaned down and gave the swell of his rump a kiss, which caused Dorian to shiver. The bite that followed, however, made Dorian groan – and Lavellan could tell he’d like it, though any physical evidence as such was hidden between the mage’s body and the plush bed. He’d left a small red mark on Dorian’s behind, but it would fade quickly. Lavellan had a sudden urge to mark Dorian further – to spank him, bite him, bruise him – but knew that with how much they’d both drank earlier that they wouldn’t last through half the fun things that were floating around in his mind. Instead, he stuck to his plan. It was time to take the next step.

From under the mattress Lavellan retrieved a small jar of a thick, slick substance. He dipped his finger into it before dropping it onto the bed beside him. With one hand, he pinned Dorian’s wrists behind his back, gently but firmly keeping them still. Then, carefully, he pressed his slicked hand against the tight pucker of Dorian’s entrance. The man must have expected this, what with the position they were in and Lavellan’s attention to his ass, but all the same he jumped and squirmed as Lavellan pushed harder and harder until he pressed inside. At a knuckle’s depth, he pulled back and pushed forwards again, getting a little deeper this time. Slowly and carefully, Lavellan used the slick to open Dorian up one finger at a time, until he could move with ease. It was a short time before he had two fingers inside the mage, and then three. By this time, Dorian was writhing, his hands clenching helplessly in Kavi’s tight grip as he begged with muffled groans and whimpers for more. Lavellan struggled to keep himself in control, not rutting desperately against Dorian’s ass like he wanted to, but instead simply pressing forward so Dorian would feel the swell of him. Dorian whined impatiently, before cutting the sound sharply, as if he hadn’t meant to utter it.

“Did you need something?” Kavi asked innocently. “I’m pretty comfortable where I am at the moment.” Dorian gave an undignified snort before tugging the sodden fabric out of his mouth and all but snarling:

“Just fuck me, you asshole!” Lavellan laughed, slicking himself up as he did so.

“You’re so impatient,” he sighed in mock disappointment. “I’ll have to train that out of you.” He hadn’t meant to make such a comment – he’d implied that this _thing_ would continue beyond now, beyond the drunken celebratory haze that had driven them to this point. He’d revealed his faint hopes that a sober Dorian would still look at him with the lust that he threw over his shoulder now with ease. He’d showed his cards. He mentally cursed himself for the slip, even as he pressed a hand to the spot between Dorian’s well-built shoulders to keep him down. There were goosebumps under his fingers.

“I look forward to it,” Dorian mumbled into the sheets. Lavellan paused, cock in hand, staring down at the mage. He was drunk, surely, and wouldn’t want a repeat of this in the morning. Not once he remembered how he hated Lavellan as a person. But those words, and the physical reaction they caused… The elf shook his head and pressed the head of his cock up against Dorian’s slick hole. The world narrowed to this single moment, Lavellan hovering with Dorian at his mercy, Dorian laid out beautifully, the warmth of their skin pressed together.

“Last chance to back out,” Lavellan said hoarsely, trembling slightly with the effort of keeping still. “Well, you could do it later but I’d be much less happy about it.”

“If you don’t fucking do it right now,” Dorian all but snarled, “I’m going to set something important on _fire_.”

“Enthusiastic,” Lavellan chuckled, before pressing forward. Dorian was hot, tight, slick, good, so so good, and Lavellan took his time with relish, rather than impatience. Every inch gained was another prize. When he could no longer move forward he took a moment to breathe. Dorian’s hands, released during the slow penetration, fisted the sheets tightly. His face was pressed into the mattress, the pillow a couple inches away. He was making little sounds, alternately high and breathy, and deep with need.

“More,” he said shakily, as Lavellan admired the handsome cut of his profile.

“Say the magic word,” he admonished gently. But the hasty reply was snuffed out in a huff as Lavellan pulled back and thrust forward again, slow but steady. Dorian forgot to speak. Kavi set up a carefully deep rhythm, rocking Dorian forward with every movement until he was so close to the headboard he could knock into it at any moment. Lavellan grabbed for the mage’s dark hair, pulling Dorian’s neck taut and causing him to utter that breathy gasp that showed just how much he liked being manhandled. Kavi picked up the pace of his thrusts. “You like that?” he asked, burying the genuine question in a sultry tone pitched so deep it rumbled through them both, as much felt as heard.

“Yeah,” Dorian panted, his arms now tucked under him to support the unwavering curve of his spine. Lavellan tightened his fist, no longer holding but pulling, and Dorian gasped again, and hissed after, “Yeeeeessss….” Lavellan groaned, increasing the speed of his thrusts a little more. The fire of taking Dorian like this was burning through him, making him want to spend here and now, brutally pulling an orgasm out of them both with a rough finish. But something was stopping him from losing complete control. He wanted to see Dorian’s face.

It took some time, but eventually Lavellan released his grip so Dorian dropped forward in surprise. He would have otherwise complained that Lavellan was pulling out, that he was moving away. Lavellan rose, stretched slightly. He could see where Dorian had gone still, and was waiting for the next move. He admired the curve of his ass, brown and round and glistening slightly. Next, the swell of his shoulders, larger but not stronger than Lavellan’s own compact build. His attention shifted up to the man’s face, which was looking anxiously over one muscular shoulder.

“Did I… do something wrong?” All the fire had left the mage’s voice, leaving behind a well-worn insecurity that Lavellan would never have believed Dorian capable of. He sounded afraid, and resigned, and apologetic. As if Lavellan was about to simply disappear in the middle of a tryst. Something inside him clenched, but he ignored it.

“Of course not, Dorian,” he said, much softer than he’d meant to. In a moment, his hand was sliding reassuringly down Dorian’s back, and rather than flipping him and fucking him senseless he was laying down beside him and kissing him breathless, kissing that strained, sad voice right out of him. It was tender, something Kavi hadn’t expected to experience with him, not now. But it felt good, and Dorian let him, as if they were more than one-time lovers. For the first time since he’d left him behind in the tavern earlier that night, The Iron Bull’s face loomed in the forefront of Kavi’s mind. The elf couldn’t help but think Bull would love to see this. He’d enjoy watching the rough coupling, yes, but more than that it was the passionate kisses that would make the big guy smile.

Once reassured, Dorian refused to stay complacent. Soon, his hands roamed and found their way to places that made Lavellan gasp, laugh, moan. They rolled playfully in the sheets, teasing new pleasures out of one another before Dorian said, a little huffily, “Would you please fuck me already?”

Lavellan laughed, but rolled Dorian over onto his back and pinned him, his own thighs pressing dorian’s wide open before he slicked up once again.

“Hurry up,” Dorian muttered, gazing down at the place where their bodies would soon join, though he didn’t have much of a view.

“Hush, or I’ll gag you again,” Lavellan replied, but did what Dorian wanted anyway, and slid home in one steady motion. Kavi had to take a moment to stop from spilling right there, he was so keyed up already, but Dorian was having none of it. He rolled his hips, starting Lavellan down a path he wouldn’t be able to return from. He began thrusting in earnest. This was evidently what Dorian was waiting for. He cried out his appreciation, words already driven out of his mind by the force of Lavellan’s steady pounding. He increased his speed quickly, loving the way their bodies slammed together, how Dorian’s fingers were going to leave bruises on his arms, how his eyes were glassy whenever they opened. He couldn’t help it. He dropped forward to kiss Dorian sloppily, the rhythm interfering significantly with his plans. He slowed his pace to a steady roll of the hips that had Dorian groaning against his lips. With his legs hooked over Lavellan’s hips, Dorian need only be rocked just right to stroke the spot that had him twitching and gasping. 

It wasn’t long before Dorian reached the end of his stamina, and the wave of pleasure he’d been building crashed through him. In the haze of pleasure, he gasped out the Inquisitor’s given name, _Kavi_ though he’d never used it before. He spent messily on his own abdomen, but Lavellan paid it no mind even as he smeared it between them in his desire to kiss and lick at Dorian’s neck as he fucked him through the orgasm. His name, spoken by those lips. He couldn’t get enough of the throat that bore those words, was almost distracted mentally writing odes to Dorian’s perfect voice. Despite his mental interference, he kept a careful rhythm until Dorian’s aftershocks died down. And once he could look into those sleepy, sated eyes, he could wait no longer. He sped up, dropped forward so his face was buried against the other man’s neck. He came hard after a dozen strokes, his powerful orgasm tearing through him, and all he could do was shake and moan as he held tight to Dorian. In his fervor, Kavi could not resist the urge to mark Dorian with a bite.

Much later, Lavellan woke to Dorian cleaning the mess from his body. The cloth was cold, but it worked against the mess they’d been too exhausted to deal with before. Though the sky was mostly dark, it was still early enough that the awkwardness of morning has not yet come, even though the excuse of drink had long since passed. Kavi was glad to see Dorian had not fled, and took this as a sign that Dorian wasn’t ashamed of what had passed between them.

“Thank you,” Lavellan said, his voice thick with sleep and the aftermath of drink. “I should have done it before.”

“You were tired. As was I. I just wanted to ensure you were clean before…” he trailed off, gazing out at the mountains where the sky was slowly changing from night’s indigo to morning’s azure.

“A second round?” Lavellan finished helpfully, grinning at Dorian even though his attention seemed resolutely elsewhere.

“Of course, that’s an option, but after…” That tone was back, so unlike any Dorian that Lavellan had ever spoke to that he doesn’t quite know what to do. He’d expected quips about his prowess.

“After you’d better get back into this bed so we can sleep until someone gets worried we’re dead.” Dorian snorted a little laugh.

“Worries you’re dead, more like. I’d be the number one suspect.”

“Ah yes. Fucked to death by a magister. Of all the ways to go, I’d say not the worst.”

“Depends which Magister,” Dorian said, his voice equal parts humorous and dark. “Anyway. We wouldn’t want the servants to talk. There’s enough of that going on for you and Bull, anyway…” And the casual tone, the supposed inattention, the stillness that came over him all revealed that this was what he’d wanted to say all along.

“Let them talk,” he said plainly, watching Dorian carefully. “Bull and I are friends. Friends who fuck. It’s normal, for us. The places we come from… they’re not like where you grew up. No one’s going to court marshal you for having sex with me.”

“I’m sure Mother Giselle will at least write a petition,” Dorian chuckled weakly. “Forgive me, Inquisitor, I’m not so sure how this casual consort business works. It’s all southern nonsense to me.” Lavellan grew tired of the distance between them and pulled Dorian down from his place perched on the edge of the bed into the soiled sheets. He pulled the other man close enough to kiss, and did, clumsily on the corner of his mouth, the still-unfamiliar mustache tickling his lip.

“Well, this s _outhern nonsense_ is much better than your way, I promise. All you have to do is tell me what you want. And then hey, you’ve got it.” He smiled reassuringly, but Dorian’s uncertain expression didn’t fade.

“All on me, then?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Ah.” Lavellan thought for a moment, and then continued, “I can think of a few outcomes. One; this is our only tryst. It was fun, but we hardly get along on a good day, and there’s no shame in chalking it up to a night of drinking. I continue as I was with Bull, or any others. I don’t like that option so much.” Dorian watched him carefully, as if afraid to betray some emotion. Lavellan wondered what it was like, to find sex and passion so fraught with danger and confusion “Two; we become _casual concubines_ or whatever it was you said before. We fuck. It’s a secret, or not a secret, whatever you like. We go on until one of us finds something serious.”

Dorian swallows visibly, before saying, “I suppose it’s not the worst thing that could happen. I’ll say what I like about your hygiene but your carnal skills are not half bad.” Lavellan laughs, poking at the rising bruise on Dorian’s shoulder.

“You laid much more glowing praise earlier,” he scoffed. “I should have asked you to rate me then.”

“Your ego doesn’t need fattening,” Dorian replied, some of the mirth coming back to his face. He still looked somewhat deflated, however.

“And then there’s option three.” Lavellan held Dorian’s gaze for a long moment before he described his ideal scenario. “You don’t get out of my bed until sometime tomorrow, we pay no attention to any rumours that may be spread. Then, we take the chance to spread a little of our own… To Bull. I think he’d be rather jealous to hear what he missed, don’t you?” Dorian looked at Lavellan in shock.

“I do love riding the Bull,” he continued casually, as if discussing a preferred method of travel, “but I think I’d rather like to see you ride him too. If you’re interested in a less… traditional… possibility.” He wasn’t sure if his embarrassment was visible or not, but he tried to keep it under wraps nonetheless. He’d talked to Bull about this once, mostly in a session of dirty talk so filthy that Lavellan had literally come in his pants, but not for some weeks. And the bigger secret was, of course, that this idea of having both – The Iron Bull and Dorian, extremely disparate creatures – extended well beyond the realm of carnal passion.

“…All of us? Together?”

“If you want to. You did seem interested, last night, in the tavern… I mean, it’s not mandatory, it’s just a passing idea I had, we’d have to talk this over with him of course – “ Dorian cut him off by kissing him, rolling his hips forward to illustrate how Lavellan’s suggestion had effected him. After a little while, they pulled apart.

“I don’t mean to be antagonistic,” Dorian mumbled, tracing the line of the tattoo down his neck. “My mouth likes to run away on me sometimes. And you do make it so easy.”

“I like you too, when you aren’t insulting me.”

“It’s not insulting, it’s _correcting_.”

“I’m going to correct you,” Lavellan replied with a bark of laughter, and rolled Dorian over until they were utterly tangled in sheets, clinging to the edge and one another. Warm, happy, hopeful, they go for round two, and pay special attention to which parts The Iron Bull might like to hear about later.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the support, everyone! This one is not quite as hot, but I'm still pretty happy with it. 
> 
> This is dedicated to everyone who reviewed and subscribed on the last fic. I really appreciated all your kind words.
> 
>  If you notice any glaring errors, please let me know! I don't have a beta or anything so this is all me. sorry.
> 
> If this is your thing, you can follow me on tumblr here: http://feministfangirl.tumblr.com


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